


Running (to be Caught)

by kungfunurse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, chase kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kungfunurse/pseuds/kungfunurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolves love to chase their prey. How does the prey feel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running (to be Caught)

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged it Mildly dub-con, though I feel that everyone makes their preferences quite clear by the end. A little fic to help sell myself for the AO3 auction. [Thanks for supporting the Archive!](http://ao3auction.tumblr.com/kungfunurse)

Stiles grinds the heel of his hand into his side, trying to ease the stitch enough to get a deeper breath. The crashing in the underbrush is getting closer, and he grunts and pushes his legs harder.

A howl starts up behind him, and he whips his head around as it’s answered by another off to his right, then a third up ahead. _Fuck_. His breath wheezes painfully and he blinks sweat out of his eyes, dodging a low branch and making a break for the stream bed. 

He’s practically clawing at the pain in his side, fighting the agony for each breath, feeling like he’s drowning even as he keeps running. Thirty feet until the streambed. Twenty-five. The howls close in and he knows he’ll never make it. He looks over his shoulder to see glowing gold eyes behind him, and his body spasms in terror, overtaxed, and he stumbles to his knees.

“No,” he wheezes, scrambling on his hands and knees. “No, stop!” The werewolf throws its head back and howls, and from all around him the pack closes in, their eyes glowing, teeth bared, claws flexing as they reach out to rend and tear their prey. The closest one, eager to finish the hunt, snarls and leaps at him, only to be slammed bodily to the ground, mid-leap.

Derek’s burning red eyes slide up to meet Stiles’. He’s crouched on top of Isaac, his clawed hand caging the boy’s neck and pushing his face into the ground. “This,” he snarls, his words distorted by his teeth and jaw, “is why we don’t chase humans!” The wolves flinch back from the venom in his words, but his eyes never leave Stiles. “Get out of my sight, before I chase _you_.” 

Erica and Boyd whimper and melt back into the trees, and Derek hoists Isaac up by the back of his neck and throws him after them. “Go!”

Stiles heaves huge, shuddering gasps of air, too winded even to get up. Derek looms over him now, a lethal presence, watching him squirm and struggle weakly to breathe. And there’s something wrong with Stiles, really fucking wrong, because this should not be making him hard. He’s weak and helpless, splayed out on the ground before Derek, and he feels terror, yes, but also a kind of horrified pleasure, a sort of _giving in_.

“You know better, Stiles,” Derek growls, pacing slowly around him, _stalking me_ , Stiles thinks. “You can’t play with wolves like this.” His normally light baritone resonates eerily in his chest.

“They cornered me after school,” Stiles flares up, struggling to get his breathing, his body, under control. “They said they wanted practice, that they wouldn’t hurt me.” He spits it out, not having believed it at the time, either. “They made me run.”

“Moron,” Derek rumbles, crouching down thought-quick, in Stiles’ face. “You should have yelled for me.”

“I can take care of myself,” Stiles shoots back, ignoring the obvious lie. He shoves at Derek’s shoulders, trying to get some space. There’s not even enough air for Stiles, and Derek is sucking it all up, making a heavy, breathless space between them. Stiles pushes again, fighting the heavy, strangely thrilling enervation weighing him down.

“You can’t, you don’t know what you _do_ to us,” Derek whispers, jaws inching closer to Stiles’ frantically working throat. “Once we’ve started, we don’t stop until we’ve run you to the ground.”

“You stopped,” Stiles points out, clinging to his defiance, his dick throbbing hot in his jeans.

“Have I?” Derek cocks his head, hot gusts from his nostrils shivering over Stiles’ neck.

“Yeah, and the others,” Stiles waves vaguely at where the betas had disappeared, unable to break from Derek’s predatory gaze. 

“Are slaughtering a deer,” Derek breathes, sniffing delicately at the sweaty hair behind Stiles’ ear. “They’re burying themselves in its intestines, gorging on it.”

“Dude that’s so…” Stiles trails off, whimpering as a single claw trails down his stomach, catching on his belt. “… ugh.”

“Hmmmm,” Derek replies, grazing his lips along Stiles’ pulse point, making him jump when just the tip of his pink tongue flicks up a drop of sweat.

“Derek,” Stiles tries one last time, pushing weakly at those insanely broad shoulders. “Dude, I’m not a deer.”

“Food isn’t the only thing we chase,” Derek rumbles, planting one hand on Stiles’ chest and pushing him flat to the ground. _No_ , Stiles thinks, writhing helplessly under Derek. And fuck, it shouldn’t feel good, there was something so _wrong_ with him.

“Derek,” Stiles gasps, arching up into the heavy, satisfying weight pinning him down. “What’s wrong with me?”

Derek grins his terrifying teeth at him and lowers himself over Stiles, one thick, heavy thigh dragging deliciously over Stiles’ dick. “Want me to make you a list?”

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles moans, losing his breath all over again. “Fuck yeah.”

“Yes?” Derek asks, hovering over him, all teeth and claws and fur, and Stiles knows that they’re not talking about list making, that this is his one and only chance to run without being caught.

He arches up under Derek’s weight, grabbing a double handful of the man on top of him. “Next time, chase me in the direction of a bed,” he orders, before sinking his teeth into Derek’s neck. The answering growl makes him grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Come [tumblr](http://kungfunurse.tumblr.com/) with me!


End file.
